Destiny said, “I’ll learn to make soap and I can sell my macramé. We’ll be completely self-sufficient. It’ll be way cool.”

“You’re not buying a farm,” Jon said. “What the hell are you talking about? How do you propose to ‘work the land’ when you don’t know jackshit about anything?” He’d developed a very low opinion of Creed and loved egging him on. Sometimes Destiny sided with her boyfriend and sometimes she turned on him, mocking him as Jon did. Today she was standing by her man.

She said, “We’re talking about a commune, dickwad. Don’t be such a prick. Everyone will pitch in.”

Jon could barely suppress a smile. “Oh, excuse me. A commune. Well, that explains it.”

Destiny bristled. “God, Jon. Who the fuck asked you? Why are you always trying to bring us down? Keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Hey, Des, come on. Why not tell ’em the truth?” Creed said.

“Because it’s none of their business!”

“What isn’t?” Walker asked.

“Nothing. Just drop it,” she said.

Creed ignored her. “We’re immigrating.”

“Knock it off, Creed. You’ve said enough.”

“Where to?” Jon asked.

“Canada.”

Destiny pushed Creed sideways. “You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to keep your big mouth shut.”

“Baby, cool it. Would you just cool it? These are friends of ours, okay?” Creed turned to Jon. “I got my draft notice three weeks ago. We were having mail forwarded to a post office box in Oakland and there it was. I knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with me. Short of shooting off my toe or claiming to be a bed wetter, my proverbial ass is grass. I’m cannon fodder. Big time.”

Walker said, “So you’re heading to Canada? Far out.”

“I thought Sweden was the haven of choice,” Jon remarked.

“Nah, Canada’s easier. We take the old yellow school bus and head north. We don’t even need passports.”

“The forty’s to cover us while we apply for citizenship,” she added.

Jon’s gaze shifted to her. “What if you get caught?”

Destiny flashed a look at him. “Man, you are bumming me out. What’s all the negativity about? I’m getting bad vibes from you.”

“I’m not putting you down. I’m just asking what you’ll do if they catch up with you,” he said.

“We don’t need your counsel, shitbird. You’re eighteen years old.”

“You think Creed’s mom and dad are going to buy your cock-and-bull story about a farm?”

“That’s it, Jon. You’re outta here. We don’t have to put up with your shit,” she said.

He smiled. “So okay, ignore me, but I’m telling you the truth. Creed’s parents aren’t stupid. You talk about starting a commune, they’ll laugh in your face.”

Creed said, “They already did when we first brought it up.”

“You won’t get a cent unless you come up with something better than that.”

“Maybe we have. We’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Creed!”

“What’s wrong with running it by them?”

“Great. And have ’em rat us out? That’ll be a big help.”

Irritated, Walker said, “Get off it. We’re not snitches.”

“I’ll just bet.”

Jon watched her with interest. “Now you got me curious.”

Creed took two quick hits from the joint and passed it to Jon. “Destiny came up with this. We could make it look like Rain’s been abducted and someone’s holding her for ransom. Dad would fall all over himself, forking up the dough.”

“So how much ransom? Forty thousand? That’ll fool ’em,” Jon said.

Destiny said, “Shit, Jon, would you lighten up? We’re still working out the details, okay? We’re tossing ideas around. We figure she’s our kid so it’s not like we’re really doing any harm.”

Jon drew on the joint, making the tip glow a bright red before he passed it on to her. “I thought his folks adopted her.”

“Technically, sure, but she’s still our kid,” she said.

Creed said, “Yeah, Jon. You’re missing the point. We scare ’em shit-less, wait a couple days, and then hit ’em good like it’s a one-time deal. Pay and you get the kid back. You don’t pay, she’s dead. They’ll come through in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”